The Bridge to Never Land by Dave Barry, Ridley Pearson Read Free Book Online Page B

whispered. “This is too far.”
    She didn’t turn around. “We are not turning back now,” she snapped. “Anyway, I think we’re coming to some kind of room.”
    She was right; in a few yards they entered a high-ceilinged, roughly square chamber, its floor strewn with rocks large and small. Tunnels branched off in all four directions. Sarah drew her heel mark into the dirt to indicate how they’d entered.
    Aidan was shining his light around. Suddenly, he froze.
    “Oh, no,” he whispered.
    “What now?” said Sarah.
    Aidan, his hand shaking, was aiming his flashlight at the floor. “Look,” he said. “I told you I saw eyes!”
    Sarah’s eyes followed his flashlight beam. She swallowed. The dirt floor was covered in animal tracks. Large ones.
    “Are those dog footprints?” she said, her voice low.
    “If they are,” said Aidan, “it’s a big dog. Or many big dogs. We need to get out of here.”
    “These could be really old.”
    “I saw eyes, Sarah!”
    Sarah flashed her light around the chamber. The beam swept across something in the corner. Sarah’s eyes widened.
    “Aidan! Look!” Her words echoed down all four tunnels. Her beam was fixed on a rock in the corner. On it was the star-and-arrow sign. The arrow pointed down.
    “I really think we need to leave,” said Aidan, his eyes still on the animal tracks.
    Sarah paid no attention. She was walking to the sign.
    “It’s here,” she said.
    “What’s here?”
    “It’s pointing straight down. There’s no tunnel or anything. It has to be here.”
    “Sarah, there’s big animals down—”
    “Right here,” she said, digging her heel into the dirt.
    “We need to—”
    “Dig,” said Sarah, dropping to her knees.
    “Sarah, we don’t—”
    “You start there,” she said, pointing. “I’ll start here. We work toward each other.” She propped her flashlight on a rock, then found two flattish rocks. She handed one to Aidan and began digging, starting directly below where the arrow pointed. She dug down about six inches and continued toward Aidan, who was digging unhappily but rapidly, making a shallow trench perpendicular to hers.
    When their trenches connected, he said, “What now?”
    “Dig deeper,” she said, attacking the dirt again. Aidan sighed and did the same. After a few minutes they paused for breath. Sarah was about to resume digging when Aidan put his hand on her arm.
    “Did you hear that?” he whispered.
    “What?”
    “Like…breathing.”
    They both listened intently.
    “Dig,” she said. “Quickly!”
    “You did hear it!” he said.
    “Just dig!”
    The dirt flew in all directions. They had now made a roughly circular hole about a yard across and more than a foot deep. Sarah glanced up to check the position of the arrow.
    Clank!
    Aidan’s rock had hit metal. He pounded it twice more.
    Clank! Clank!
    Now they both dug furiously, scooping up loose dirt with their hands and hurling it aside. They uncovered a rectangular metal plate about the size of a sheet of paper, with words engraved on it. Sarah brushed off the dirt and shone her light on it. Together, she and Aidan read the words.
    Use it wisely, or leave it be. Use it wrong, and death to thee.
    “Maybe we shouldn’t touch it,” said Aidan.
    “What are you talking about?”
    “Death,” said Aidan. “It says death.” He started to rise. Sarah grabbed his wrist, stopping him.
    “No,” she said. “Listen to me, Aidan. We were meant for this. And this is meant for us. Look at what we’ve gone through to find this. He wanted us to find this.”
    “He wanted someone to. Not us.”
    “But it is us,” she said, still holding his wrist. “We’re going to find out what this is. And whatever it is, I promise: we’re going to be wise about it.”
    Aidan looked at his sister. Then his gaze shifted slightly, over her shoulder. He slowly lifted his flashlight. Sarah watched as the color drained from his face.
    “Aidan?” she whispered. “What is it?”
    Then